


Savoy and the Twins

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [10]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richelieu remembers and makes a couple new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savoy and the Twins

Richelieu wasn’t used to being up at 2 am. However, the musketeers took over several taverns in a two block radius. The lot of them got blind, stupid drunk and started brawling amongst themselves and anyone in their path.

Torches lit the main courtyard of the Palais Cardinal. Red guards moved in and out of the main gate. Those retuning from outside were disheveled, sporting all manor of minor injuries, but they were in high spirits, shouting at each other.

Richelieu stood on the main steps, watching all the activity with a critical eye. “Is it finally under control?”

The Captain of the Red Guard, Jussac, was just to Richelieu’s right, standing one step below him. There was a bruise on his jaw. He nodded. “We rounded up all the musketeers before they could start a riot. We dumped them back in their barracks and locked them in as you ordered. Most of them were so drunk that I doubt they’ll move from where we dropped them til morning.”

“Anyone killed?”

Jussac shook his head. “No. Thankfully, they were too uncoordinated to draw their weapons.”

Richelieu nodded and asked crisply, “The fire?”

“Taken care of before it could spread,” Jussac answered readily.

“And we’ve rewarded the right people for their discretion?”

Jussac gave a very slight smirk. “Yes. None of the tavern owners, shop keepers, or bystanders are going to lodge a complaint with the king.”

Richelieu smiled thinly. “Good man.”

“Why didn’t you let us arrest them?”

“The king’s favorite regiment, who went out to toast to the memory of their massacred comrades at Savoy. I doubt that would go over well,” Richelieu replied dryly.

One end of Jussac’s mouth quirked up. “I suppose not,” he agreed ruefully. “Best not to burden his majesty.”

Richelieu nodded towards the men. “Spread the word to of the men of an extra weeks leave for each of them.”

Jussac grinned and bowed. “Yes, Your Eminence. Thank you.”

Richelieu half turned to go back inside. “What about Captain Treville?”

Jussac’s grin grew wider, showing off all his teeth. “As bad as his musketeers. He was in a bit of a foul temper so I relieved him of his weapons. He called me all manner of names while he heaved up his guts.” 

Richelieu sighed heavily. “Charming.”

Jussac lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I left him where you can find him. God go with you, Eminence.”

Richelieu threw a mock scowl Jussac’s way before he fully turned to go inside. He followed the corridors to his private rooms. He found Treville sprawled in one of the chairs in the sitting room.

Treville was without his hat and outer coat. He leaned against one of the chair arms and had his chin down on his chest. The top of his stained shirt was undone. His legs were stretched out in front of him.

Richelieu sighed. He filled a glass of water from a pitcher on a nearby stand. He approached Treville. “Jean.”

Treville snorted and shifted in the chair. He groaned and grimaced at the sour taste in his mouth. He looked up at Richelieu with blurry eyes. “What the hell do you want?” he rasped.

Richelieu held out the glass of water. “Here.”

Treville regarded the glass as suspiciously as a heavily intoxicated man could. He licked his lips and swallowed. He grunted in disgust.

Richelieu kept his voice soft and steady. “Jean, stop being stubborn.”

Treville stuck his chin out. He folded his arms across his chest. “No, thanks, Eminence,” he drawled with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“For Heaven’s sake.” Richelieu rolled his eyes and took a sip from the glass. He held it back to Treville.

Treville snatched the glass. He drained it in three quick gulps. He held it in a white knuckle grip. “There,” he spit out. “Satisfied?”

Richelieu took it back before Treville could throw it. “Not really,” he answered quietly and went to put it back next to the pitcher. He felt Treville’s hostile eyes on him the whole time.

“Twenty musketeers,” Treville snarled.

Richelieu stood still, his back to Treville. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He rolled his shoulders forward to loosen some of the tension. “I know.”

Treville staggered to his feet. “Don’t you care?!” he shouted.

Richelieu turned to face Treville. He held Treville’s gaze. “Of course, I care,” he hissed.

Treville’s whole body was rigid. He was red in the face. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “It was your plan!”

Richelieu didn’t shout but there was still an intensity there to cut through the alcohol induced fog in Treville’s brain. “That was not my plan. They were supposed to be a diversion, nothing more. I would never do that to you.”

Treville opened his mouth to protest.

Richelieu shrugged helplessly and kept going, “I love you.”

Treville suddenly crumpled in on himself. He sank down to his knees. He let out a shuddering breath and started shaking.

Richelieu eased down next to Treville. He wrapped his arms around him. “I’m so sorry for their loss, Jean.”

Treville only struggled briefly before he squirmed to get closer. He hugged back, tightly. He buried his face in Richelieu’s chest.

“I have you,” Richelieu whispered. He held Treville while Treville sobbed. He rocked Treville and murmured soothingly to him.

Treville eventually quieted. He pulled back. His eyes were red and puffy. He sniffed. “I don’t know what to do now,” he whispered helplessly.

Richelieu continued rubbing Treville’s back. “I don’t know either,” he admitted. “In all my years, I’ve never found a quick-fix cure for grief.”

Treville offered a small, watery smile. “You’re admitting to not knowing something.”

Richelieu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s been known to happen on occasion.”

Treville’s smile swiftly disappeared. He squeezed his eyes shut against more tears. “Armand,” he whimpered.

Richelieu scattered light kisses over Treville’s face: his forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, and the corner of his mouth. “Breathe, Jean. That’s all you have to do. Keep breathing.”

Treville whimpered again. He buried his face in the side of Richelieu’s neck. Richelieu continued to just hold him and let him be.

Richelieu smoothly surfaced from his memories to the sounds of the twins. Treville’s heartbeat faded to be replaced by the tiny fluttering one against his palm. He absently stroked the pigeon resting in his hands. It carried another message from Sextus and he couldn’t help wondering if there were going to be more complaints about Treville’s political ineptitude and/or honorable bleeding heart.

He only had a little more patience for the dictates of honor than Sextus. Honor was an inconvenience at best and a stumbling block at worst. Still, he’d never really wanted to take it from Treville. It was an integral part of who Treville was.

He frowned. That didn’t matter anyway. He was dead and Treville no longer wanted him anyway.

He stood next to the dovecote behind Henri’s house, next to the small garden. The garden was once immaculate, however it was beginning to grow wild. The exterior of the house was faded and the windows needed a wash.

The day was bright, not too hot and not too cold. Henri eased down into a chair, under an awning. He had his cane in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. The twins buzzed around him, trying to “help” make him comfortable. Louise handed him a book while Etienne brought a pillow for his back from inside.

Richelieu heard the constant stream of chatter and could see from Henri’s face that his patience was almost at an end with them hovering. Richelieu caught Henri’s gaze. He tilted his head to the side.

Henri smiled in relief. “Pere Lucius has one of the pigeons out. Do you want to see before he puts it in the dovecote?”

The twins ran over. They were blonde and brown eyed mirror images of each other. Their clothes were of fine quality, but old and patched, just like their grandfather’s. 

Richelieu hadn’t really had much interaction with them. They’d been openly studying him since he arrived but Henri kept them a polite distance away. Now, they looked on him with avid curiosity.

Louise hesitantly held her hand out. “Can I touch it?”

Richelieu knelt down on one knee. He held the pigeon secure. “Gently.”

Louise stroked her finger over the pigeon’s head. She giggled. “He’s soft.”

Etienne’s eyes lit up. “My turn.” He softly stroked the bird. “What are you doing?”

Richelieu held the pigeon so they could see the message attached to its leg. “He carried a message from Paris for me.”

Etienne gaped. “From Paris? Philippe says that’s a two day ride. This bird made it all the way from there.”

Richelieu chuckled. “Yes.”

Louise peered at the rolled up slip of paper. “Why doesn’t it fall off?”

Richelieu untied the small piece of string and eased the slip of paper off the bird’s leg. He straightened up to put the pigeon in the dovecote. “Now, he needs some food and a good rest.”

The twins’ heads bobbed up and down in solemn agreement. “What’s the message?” they chorused.

Richelieu held it out to them. “Have a look.”

Etienne’s hand got there first. He unraveled the slip. His brow furrowed.

Louise was at his side. She pursed her lips. “That doesn’t look like French.”

“That’s because it’s not. It’s a code in Etruscan,” Richelieu explained patiently. 

“A code? Really?” Louise asked excitedly.

Etienne turned the paper different ways. He bit his bottom lip. “So, how to read it is a secret.”

“Exactly.” Richelieu knelt down again so he could talk to them face to face. He took the message back and slipped it in his robes to read later. “You said it doesn’t look like French. Have you two started learning how to read?”

Etienne wrinkled his nose. “No. It’s boring.”

Louise kicked at the ground. “Philippe said girls don’t need to read.”

Richelieu nodded towards Henri. “And what does Grandfather say?”

Louise looked around and then leaned in closer to him. She lowered her voice. “He and Philippe have fought about it before.”

Etienne did the same. His eyes were wide and fearful. “And Grandfather starts to cough.”

Richelieu put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Well, I appreciate learning in all its forms. You learn to read and we’ll have a code of our own.”

The twins looked around to make sure no one else was listening in. “What about Philippe?”

Richelieu grinned. “You let me handle him.”


End file.
